A Wedding Story
by Vampirechica12345
Summary: Preparations are in full swing for Millie and Audun's wedding, and things are starting to get crazy. Through all this, Zoe starts to realize something. She loves Francis. But Francis, like most boys, doesn't realize this sudden change. Zoe/Francis


Tiny fairies with brightly colored hair flitted all around the Great Hall, their dresses made of various petals and plants rustling as they buzzed by.

The hall was filled with a thousand different scents, from honey-glazed ham to freshly baked cake to water lilies. It hung in the air, suspended in the hall like an invisible fog, making it hard to breathe.

To my right, a crowd of small flower fairies floated, fighting viciously over, you guessed it, flowers.

"I said they should be pink daisies!" one exclaimed, wings buzzing angrily. Her hair was a frosted kind of bubblegum pink, piled up on top of her head.

A fairy with a red pixie cut scowled, arms crossed. Her dress made of red rose petals swayed as she bobbed up and down in the air."Pssh! Daisies? This isn't the spring fling! Roses is what she needs. Right, Celosia?" She turned to a fairy with long, wavy purple hair who was snoozing in the folds of a lily. She looked like a small caterpillar, her dress a fuzzy purple with stripes of green.

The red fairy waited smugly for a positive reply from her fellow fairy.

But Celosia was fast asleep.

The red fairy scowled, turning to the sleeping fairy. "Celosia! Wake up!" she yelled.

Celosia sat up. She stretched and yawned, eyes blinking sleepily. "What did you say, Rosalinda?" she mumbled.

Rosalinda sighed. "I was _saying _don't you think a bunch of red roses would look lovely around..."

She never got to finish.

Celosia's eyes glazed over and she gave a great yawn. In the blink of an eye she was laying back down, fast asleep once again.

Rosalinda's face turned bright red.

The pink haired fairy chuckled. "Oh, you have very strong supporters."

Rosalinda glared at her. "You're one to talk, Delilah!" she squeaked. "No one so much as batted an eyelash at your proposal!"

Delilah clenched her tiny little fists. "Well at least nobody _fell asleep _while I was explaining mine!"

The two fairies flew at each other, and for a moment, I was afraid I was going to have to break up a tiny fairy fight.

But suddenly, the air shimmered with an emerald green light between the two fairies. They blinked in surprise, stopping in their tracks.

A fairy dressed in various shades of green appeared before the two quarreling fairies. She was human-sized, towering over the teeny fairies.

The Swamp Fairy.

Sheepish looks appeared on both Rosalinda and Delilah's faces upon her arrival.

The Swamp Fairy glared at the two flower fairies. "This is no cause for fighting." she scolded. "It's a wedding!"

Both red and pink fairies blushed, looking guiltily at one another. "Sorry Swamp Fairy." they murmured together.

Swamp Fairy smiled. "That's much better." She turned to regard the hall.

"Besides." she added with a sly grin. "I think this hall needs more of a...tropical appearance."

With a wave of her wand the room erupted in a shower of beautiful white and hot pink petals suspended on bright green stems.

Swamp Fairy smiled in satisfaction, then turned back to the guilty fairies, who were trying to escape.

"Get back here." she demanded. "I'm not finished with you two yet."

I took this as an invitation to go. I wasn't really into fairy discipline.

But just as I stole down the hall, heading in the direction of the doors, I was stopped by the royal seamstress.

She was a portly little woman with bright red hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun.

"Princess Zoe, it's time for your fitting." she said.

I winced and tried to dodge around her. "Actually, I was just about to head outside. Maybe another time..."

She caught me by the arm, her grip steely.

I gasped. "Oh! Er...that's some grip you've got there."

Her beady little eyes stared me down, daring me to try escaping again.

I sighed, shoulders slumping. "Fine." I muttered.

She gave a little 'humph' of satisfaction, then started briskly down the hall, practically dragging me all the way to the fitting room.

"You're the worst patron I've ever had in my life!" the seamstress shrieked, pulling my hem as I tried in vain, again, to step down from the platform.

Immediately upon entering the sewing room, she'd ushered me onto this platform, raised a bit above the floor, so that she could reach the hem of the dress better.

"I'm not so fond of you either." I muttered.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, startling both me and the seamstress.

Millie hurried in, hastily closing the door behind her.

"Where have you been?" Millie demanded. She looked a mess. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a wild mane of blonde curls, and don't even get me started on her dress. It looked like she'd been trampled by a herd of stampeding buffalo.

"I could ask you the same question." I replied, surveying her appearance once more. "What happened to you?"

Millie sighed. "You have no idea how stressful it is planning a wedding."

"Thankfully, no." I replied. "And if this is what it looks like, forget it. I'm eloping."

Millie shot me a look, and I quieted down. She was under enough stress already, she didn't need my added humor.

There came a knock at the door. "Come in!" Millie called absentmindedly, not even turning to look as a head poked through the door.

"Mind if I come in?" Francis asked, smile ever-present on his face.

"Now it's a party." I muttered.

The seamstress tugged at the strings on the bodice of my gown, pulling them so tight I lost my breath.

I gasped, hand wandering to my stomach as I breathed in deeply.

My face scrunched in discomfort, I tossed Millie a 'help me' look.

She shook her head and turned away.

The seamstress tugged again, this time, much harder.

I nearly doubled over, clutching at my chest. I took an instinctual step away.

"Don't move!" the seamstress shrieked.

"But I can't breathe!" I gasped, sucking as much air as I could.

I took another step away, hoping to pull the strings out of her hands.

"Hold still!" she cried, and promptly stuck me with a pin.

I growled, flashing my fangs in her direction.

"Zoe..." Millie warned.

But apparently the seamstress had dealt with this kind of thing before. She didn't even glance up, just continuing to poke and prod me with her needle.

Francis glanced at me, amusement written clearly across his face. "And what exactly is going on here?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "What does it look like? I'm getting poked against my will."

The seamstress ducked down to adjust the hem, and I made a face in her direction.

Francis chuckled.

"I don't understand why you insisted I get a fitting." I grumbled, turning my attention to Millie. "I'm just a bridesmaid, not the actual bride. I could just get any old dress and it wouldn't matter."

Millie sighed. "Zoe, we've gone over this. You're the Maid of Honor. What you wear is important too."

"Not to everybody." I muttered under my breath.

There came another knock at the door.

"Come on in! You can mock my discomfort too!" I called.

Millie shot me a look, which I shrugged off.

A woman with mousy brown hair wearing a giant white chef's hat stepped hesitantly into the room. Her eyes darted around nervously.

I guess she didn't get out much.

"What is it, Clara?" Millie asked.

Clara cleared her throat. "Well...uh...Princess Millie...there's a situation in the kitchen I think you should...check out."

Millie sighed, then nodded, waving Clara away. "Fine, I'll be there in a moment." she said wearily.

Clara nodded once, then darted out of the room. I could picture her sprinting like a mad woman down the hall to the safety of her kitchen.

Millie ran a hand through her hair, leaning back in her chair. "Can I ever get a break?" she groaned.

"You know, I could go." I offered.

I started to step off of the platform the seamstress had made me stand on at the beginning of the fitting.

The seamstress gasped in surprise, giving my ankle a slap.

"Hey!" I protested.

"Get back up there!" she hissed, eyes narrowing.

I glared at her. "I'm not about to be ordered around by a..."

"Oookay then." Francis cut in quickly. "Millie, I think you should be heading to the kitchen." he urged her out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Then he turned to me, smirking. "And Zoe...I think you're good where you are."

"Thanks a lot." I muttered sarcastically.

He grinned, settling down in the chair Millie had just been sitting in. "This is too good."

I pointed at the door. "You're free to go too, you know. Don't let me hold you back."

Francis shook his head, still grinning cheekily. "Nah, I wouldn't want to miss this. It's too entertaining."

I took a step forward. "You better watch it you..." The seamstress gave me another smack.

This time, I let out a yelp.

"Back." she growled.

"Touchie." I grumbled.

Francis snickered in his seat.


End file.
